Grim
by Your Faithful Servant
Summary: Like usual, Jim gives himself up for someone he loves. Unlike usual, they might find him too late this time. (No character death, despite what the description may imply. McSpirk mentioned)


**Hey! I'm in the middle of finals and stressed af when I found this in my drafts. Distracting myself by posting something I've already written is very me. I might post a second chapter sometime but for now it's destined to be a one shot. Also I'm a baby who can't write character death so for future reference, never expect that from me haha.**

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In his thoughts about death, Jim had always thought it would be in a firefight, some high paced event with him bleeding out somewhere too fast for even his lovers to save. Something instantaneous, like ripping off a bandaid. Too quickly for him to be able to feel his pain and regret through the bond. Spock and Bones would be okay. Convincing himself of this was most of the reason for the risks he often took.

Now_ this _, drawn out and beyond painful… was not what he had in mind. He knew it was worse because as much as he tried to repress the pain, he knew that both his lovers could feel it. Pride, trying to swallow the screams, it all meant nothing when he nearly passed out from the pain before they'd give him enough adrenaline to even keep a horse awake. Every moment, now, was either agony or a pain laced haze that was too much for him to even think about anything else.

He hated to lose hope, but…

How long had he been here? There were no windows or natural light in this room; in fact only one flickering light that never ceased. The floors that used to be a dirty brown were now tinged copper, as were the walls. His hands were chained, and he used to be able to walk three footsteps forward and two to either side. No longer, as he'd lost the ability to stand. Was it blood loss, or the cracked bones in his legs? He wasn't sure. He didn't often have the capacity anymore to think about it with the state of his body.

_You're not going to let me out of sick bay for a month, Bones, _he'd sent over the bond, trying some attempt of humor even if he wasn't sure they were close enough to receive it. He was grasping at straws, he knew, but he had to do something to keep from losing his mind.

_Me instead, _he remembers saying, voice thick but determined. _He may be first officer but I'm the captain of the Enterprise, much more valuable. _He doesn't know what he's truly getting into, not then, but he knows Spock did. He doesn't need the bond to know Spock is horrified when they accept this offer, only doesn't move because of what Jim orders through the bond.

_Take care of the ship, of our crew, but Bones most of all, _he orders softly. _I'll see you soon. _

Laughable, because while he knows without a doubt they're coming for him, will it be in time? His fingernails are missing on one hand, his back is a fucking _mess _\- not Frank's belt, a whip, but the increase in pain does not make much difference when it comes to triggers- and he doesn't even need to look to know both of his legs are broken. His chest is covered in bruises, and though he can't see it, he knows his face must be too. If he couldn't handle pain, he wouldn't have made it through Tarsus IV, or hell, even his own childhood, but this...

If he dies, he hopes they never find his body. He never wants them to see it like this. Maybe he doesn't even want them to find him at all. Jim doesn't want to see the looks on their faces, nor their feelings (more than horror) over their bond. But it doesn't matter, because even if he doesn't survive this, he knows they won't stop until they find him. Being stubborn beyond measure was a trait all three of them shared. And right now? Their combined worry, right now, is almost too much. Spock feels more deeply than anyone could've imagined, and Bones has always been, as Jim used to say frequently at the academy, a 'worry wart'. And of course, they can feel exactly how much pain he's in, and that can't be any easier. But still, he clings onto the thought that at least it's him this is happening to. _At least it's not them._

He was never going to answer any of the questions proceeding the torture, so he doesn't even put the energy into listening after a while. Just says 'no', until his voice becomes too hoarse and then he just shakes his head. It gets worse. He doesn't care anymore, because everything fades into either 'they're actively hurting me' or 'what they did to me earlier still hurts', which honestly is not that much different after a while. Pain is pain, and something Jim had known as an old friend even years after the traumatic events of his younger years.

_You're going to die here, _one tells him. _I can make it quick if you just give us the information we want. _

He just laughs. Otherwise, he would just cry, because it's starting to feel true.

Jim's getting feverish, and it starts to become hard to lift his head. His injuries are infected, and he isn't going to last much longer. It feels closer to the end as he's ever been, because it's been what's felt like weeks and maybe they've even given up on finding him by now. Spock and Bones wouldn't have given up, but perhaps Starfleet told them enough was enough, or even sent them a new captain.

_I love you _, he sends through the bond with as much energy as his dying body can handle, _I love you and I'm sorry _.

He wonders, is he hallucinating the warm hand cradling his neck, or the soft _Jim _close by? Is he just imagining the furious, quick orders of his favorite doctor, or the fingers on his arms, pulsing _with hold on, don't give up_? It has to be too kind to be true, maybe a last moment of peace before his body finally breaks down. But there's no definitive answer, and his muddled brain doesn't even try to look for one. The only things he really understands are that he both feels warm and nothing at all, and gives into darkness.

Jim doesn't know until he wakes up again to the white of sick bay. It isn't until he fully processes the sight of Bones asleep in his chair and Spock guarding the door with shiny eyes, that he finally accepts it. That cry or laugh feeling rises in his chest again, and this time… this time he cries.


End file.
